Earth's Call (1918)
John Ireland is known for developing his own variety of English Impressionism, his music predominantly inspired by Debussy, Ravel, Stravinsky and Bartók. His compositional approach is characterised by a complex harmonic style and characterful accompaniment. Having studied piano and composition at the Royal College of Music, he later returned as a teacher himself in 1923; among his pupils there was Benjamin Britten, who claimed he found his teaching unremarkable. Ireland preferred chamber music, song, and piano music to larger orchestral ensembles, hence his works are often intensely personal in style. He was strongly inspired by his surroundings, harbouring a great love of rural English landscapes, which is reflected in his works. Despite being briefly married to a young woman in his 40s, Ireland was a closeted homosexual, indications of which are scattered throughout his vocal repertoire.
'Earth’s Call' (subtitled ‘A Sylvan Rhapsody’) was published in 1918. Harold Monro’s poem was published in a set called “Week-End”, the seventh verse of ten. The set as a whole describes a couple escaping the bustle of London for a tranquil weekend in the countryside. The urgency to relish fleeting moments is evident in 'Earth’s Call' in particular, as are the homosexual implications of the pair finding freedom in their seclusion, an understanding of which both Monro and Ireland shared. Ireland, renowned for his characterful accompaniments, uses frantic oscillating sextuplets to reflect the wilderness, transitioning into a middle section characterised by indulgent chords which profoundly display his appreciation for nature and the liberty it brings.
Composer: John Ireland (1879-1962)
Poet: Harold Monro (1879-1932)
The fresh air moves like water round a boat.
The white clouds wander. Let us wander too.
The whining, wavering plover flap and float.
That crow is flying after that cuckoo.
Look! Look!…They’re gone. What are the great trees calling?
Just come a little farther, by that edge
Of green, to where the stormy ploughland, falling
Wave upon wave, is lapping to the hedge.
Oh, what a lovely bank! Give me your hand.
Lie down and press your heart against the ground.
Let us both listen till we understand,
Each through the other, ev’ry natural sound…
I can’t hear anything today, can you,
But, far and near: “Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo?”
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